When Life is a Mirror
by Reversed Revarie
Summary: When Harry is almost killed by the Dark Lord's servant an unexpected hero steps from the ranks to save the Boy Who Lived. Against all odds Draco has delivered his greatest nemesis to safety and now he must face the consequences on both ends. HPDM
1. Sacrifice

_A.N.:__ This is a Harry/Draco slashy, slash thing… so yeah first off I do not own the fabulous Harry Potter series unless you mean physically own all seven books. J. alone has privy to the Harry Potter copy write and it should be so because she does it better than many of us. Also quick note: I reuploaded the chapters because I fixed the errors! Isn't that exciting? I will not put an A.N. on top of every chapter because I think a strong starting note is quite enough. I appreciate the reviews and am flattered to be an author on a favorite's author list. Thank you all so much and yes I will "keep writing". ^-^ _

Chapter One: The decision of a lifetime: Gridlock

He almost died… _He_, almost _died_. He would have died, could have died, and_ should _have died! The fact of the matter was Harry almost died. 'Almost' seemed to not cut it with his past allegiances but times had changed. Harry Potter, the Golden Boy, the infuriating Boy-Who-Lived, had almost died and he, the loyal son of Lucius Malfoy had kept him from dying. He didn't understand why he even did it! He had saved Harry Potter, he had defied the order of the Death Eaters and he didn't understand why? It was still processing that the hulk of person before him was even alive, and that he had saved him. He was sure it hadn't been something thought out, he was certain that had he thought about doing it Potter would have been deader than Azkaban. He just did it, he alone casted the curse that killed the death eater. He felt the intent to kill erupt from him and now he was huddled in the makeshift hub under one of the trees in the damned Forbidden Forest.

The chill had set in awhile ago but the shock didn't fade from him as he remained trying to cope with his newest deed. If it had been anyone else but a death eater, they would have stupefyied the bastard but being a Malfoy, he had thoroughly covered any trace linking him with saving Harry. Draco… didn't want things to change, he didn't want to go against his father, he was afraid of Voldemort, so why did he do something that was so recklessly heroic? He shuddered into the mass of his dark robes. There was little else he could do; this place was swarming with more death eaters than imaginable. Bellatrix Black was busy running amok with what was left of the escorts that had been beside Harry. From here Draco could hear their screams and a dark twist in his gut made him want to break down like a child. Malfoys did not break down like children so this was entirely out of the question.

They were safe here in this hollow trunk, Draco had assured that. He may not have been showing off as much as he should have with his charms, but he knew them more fluently than Granger. As long as nothing internal disrupted the barrier he created, they would go unnoticed and hopefully the threat would pass by without complications. That and as long as anything non-wizard didn't give them away. Why was he doing this again? His hands grasped at his hair as he made a sound of frustration. This person beside him was the ruin of his life! Why had he allowed him to survive! Why? Why? Why? It had always been Potter this or that, in the eyes of even his father it had always been about the defeat or ranking of Potter in comparison to his son. Draco hated Harry Potter more than anything so why had he saved him? Why was he hiding him from his greatest nemeses? It made no sense. Draco leaned back against the enchanted bark, his brows furrowed and his lips became terse. He had even gone through the trouble of hiding them in an enchanted fucking tree! Leave it to a Malfoy to be thorough, but this was… it was just fucking suicidal. He had just betrayed his father and Voldemort, he couldn't return to them and remain living. He had just lost his entire life by stepping in on a rash spurt of heroism and doomed himself. God why did he have to be such a Gryffindor?

Naturally there was no way he could ever stand beside Potter, no way his dignity or pride could be justified by fighting beside this hulk of putrid filth. Harry hated Draco; Weasley hated Draco; Mudblood hated Draco; Bloody hell the whole of the wizarding world that wasn't Slytherin hated Draco! Even now he couldn't deny that all his life he had blindly followed a belief that was wrong, blood purism, but at least he had been able to do so with acceptance beside him. He had lost everything by helping this boy that he had spent his entire school years loathing and fighting with. There was no possible way he could have any stand in this war anymore. He was as good as dead already and nothing could change that.

A shadow moved by, it paused and continued. The dark aura made Draco clear his thoughts and freeze up. He held his wand in a white knuckled grasp and held it poised at the entrance of their trunk. The shadow was followed with a sliding motion which he recognized as the same snake which had killed his mentor. Pain flowed through Draco's chest; it was his fault that professor Snape was… His throat was suddenly much too dry and his chaotic emotions swirled even more before he realized he had started to cry. What was the point in anything now? He had committed the unthinkable by doing that one rash spell. He was bitterly reminded of his mother and how soon she too would be taken from him. The death eaters would realize Draco was absent; they would realize that the killing curse had been used; they would notice the tattered robe of the Gryffindor and connect the dots that Draco had fled with the Boy Who Lived. It occurred to him that he could not go back to Hogwarts now, the Slytherin would make good on their bloodlines and dispose of the blood traitor. In these dark times it was not unlikely that they would do so if Voldemort had so wished it, which he would naturally. He couldn't run because they would find him, but he had nowhere safer to go than Hogwarts. He knew what had to be done. The idea was just horrific and demeaning!

His Smokey gaze wandered to the form beside him. Draco had wrapped him in his robes to keep him warm and had already casted several recovery spells, and even a warming charm. He had done this much to ensure the git's survival… He might as well see it through. It was the Malfoy way after all, to see things through to the end. He had highly misused this way already but it was about time he accept that. Slowly he brought out his wand, if they apparated, the death eaters would know by the sound but it was their best hope. That snake would know they were in the trunk and personally, if the Dark Lord got wind of it before they got the hell out of there, they were both not only as good as dead but good for torture before death. To be frank Draco did not want to have any more reason to wish the Dark lord had never been born. If Draco could get them to Hogsmead then maybe he could make it to Hogwarts. Harry had managed more than once to sneak out of the castle, perhaps if he contacted one of the boy's friends? No, that wasn't a viable option; not for a Malfoy but what of… it would have to work. Draco pulled the mass to himself, the dead weight not exactly easy to manipulate from where he was… In a second they were gone with a pop.

The next thing Draco was aware of was the feeling of snow, bitter, cutting snow. The cold had seeped into his system by now after the shock faded. It was not permanently gone for Draco was still trying his best to rationalize his moment of Gryffindoric insanity. Death Eaters would be swarming this area soon or should have been already. His nimble fingers shook as he casted a disillusionment charm upon the two of them, they couldn't go to the Three Broomsticks, and couldn't venture into Hogsmead too far but there was a chance of getting Harry to safety. Draco was currently wondering if getting Potter to safety was even a good idea, which it was not in the first place, but where the hell were his other little watchdogs? Leaving Draco to do all their work, Bah! Humbug! Draco scowled and wrinkled his nose in agitation before he shifted the heavy body higher onto his back and began the arduous trudge to the Shrieking Shack. No one went there and certainly the death eaters would not think that a place of evil would house the Golden Boy, at least not unless they had something more precise at tracking like, oh say, Dementors but that was utterly ridiculous. There was no reason for them to have them right? It was still dark and they had a few hours until daybreak, he had to get Harry to safety before the sun rose or his charm would wear off and Voldemort would know exactly where to look. It was an elementary spell but being so hyped on how good Harry was, and that it was a fellow death eater that was saving him, they would never resort to thinking of level one spells as the culprit. His father would have noticed it instantly but his father wasn't there anymore, he was in Azkaban all because of this dweeb who Draco was hauling up a suddenly mountain-like hill.

Each step was getting harder to make, Harry's weight was just tremendous but Draco didn't have it in him to risk levitating the body, or even doing the locomotor corpis charm. It would risk the disillusionment spell and they could be spotted. In the distance Draco heard the sounds of apparition, his blood ran cold. No, no no no! He felt adrenaline pumping in his system and when they reached halfway up the hill Draco decided to risk the spell and casted the locomotor corpis on harry before sprinting to the shack and bolting through the entrance. His chest heaved as he hurriedly started spelling and hexing the door and windows. He was shaking, he was so cold, he was terrified and a coldness was sweeping over the house as a familiar fear began to root itself in his brain. Dementors. The one thing that could give them away always had to appear didn't it? His Malfoy scowl twisted into a look of pure rage and frustration. He just wanted to scream profanities but he didn't have the time for that right now. This was by far the worst day in history for Mr. Draco Acronius Malfoy!

_Because things just had to get worse didn't they? It just had to not go smoothly at all right?_ Draco thought sardonically as a sneer crossed his pale lips. It was much too cold in the shack and he knew that if he didn't figure out something fast then the two of them were doomed, either from cold but most likely from the more pressing threat of everything doom related in the bloody fucking universe. _Think Malfoy, Think! _He screamed at himself internally as the first of the darkness began to block out the moon. The Death eaters were probably already on their way! He started toward the basement, it was their best shot! If he could get to the basement he could at least get enough time through a defensive hex wall to come up with something. The dementors would be hard pressed to get into the house and even more so to reach the basement if he casted a false sunlight charm. It wasn't much but it would have to do, at this point though his charms and spells were lacking. He was growing weary and the icy fear that began to curl in his gut was draining him. It wasn't like a wizard could continually hex and charm stuff you know! There was a limit somewhere.

"Please Merlin there has to be something! It can't end like this." He hissed as he barricaded them in the basement. Harry was starting to shift as the spell wore off. It occurred to him that Harry must be vulnerable right now. Draco hated to pry, well no he enjoyed knowing secrets and so it took him little time and less moral havoc to even think of casting a Legilimens spell upon dear Harry Potter. It was the only way to keep the son of a mudblood alive after all, hell if he remembered any of this Malfoy would make good on the fact that Harry _owed_ him. His wand touched the top of that boy's forehead; he was much too pale for comfort, that wasn't how Potter was supposed to look. Easily he began to daze off into the memories of one Mr. Potter, he could see their first meeting… The first real encounter with Voldemort, the forbidden forest and Tom riddle next to the basilisk, he noted the figure of Sirius Black and countless others lost. The marauder's map caught his fancy and soon he got his information and forgot the rest, he would not begin to admire Potter in any way. He casted an obliterate spell quickly to erase the tracks he left in Harry's mind of their encounter; Not that he didn't want Harry to owe him but Draco did not want to have his enemy feeling any remote attachment to him. His charm was botchy, but it would do for now. He did not want Potter's pity and erasing enough would get rid of that side effect.

"You are so hellishly lucky Potter." Malfoy whispered with venom lacing into his words.

"You have the whole world behind you Potter, the whole fucking world. I am so dead for this, you bloody hell monger." The harsh insults were interrupted as his search for that secret pathway ensued. Relief swept through him as he found the loose hatch. It was soon replaced. A sound rocked the shack and Draco made quick work of lifting Harry once again as he forced himself and the Boy Who Lived through the crevices beneath the Shrieking shack. The two of them tumbled down stairs but soon Draco was too hyped up to feel the pain. He was sure he had at least busted his knee on that tumble, and he had definitely heard a crack from where Potter had landed. It made Draco wince, as if falling from a broom wasn't painful enough, death eaters on top of that were a menace.

He casted the spell again upon Harry's body so he could levitate it and sprinted, he ran as fast as his feet could take him and into the darkness of which there seemed no end. Somehow this was highly irrational but Draco Malfoy at this point was finding it hard to care past the sound of his racing heart and the fact that dementors were right behind them in the Shrieking Shack. The icy fear was receding as he took them to a fork in their underground path. The memory said nothing about this! Damnit all! His ears trained on the commotion behind them and quickly made up his mind to take a quick right. His lungs were aching, he was freezing, and oh did he mention he just marked himself as a very dead, dead! Man? He was only a tad jumpy at this point, and when he ran into a form he didn't hesitate to draw his wand on it. He was hit with the spell Expellerimus however and his defense was forced from his hand and that left him only one option; to stare up into the faces of one George and Fred Weasley. The three were in shocked silence until Draco started to half laugh and cry in relief and the two brothers stared perplexed at the half frozen and disheveled Malfoy. Draco never though he could feel such relief, such unadulterated relief! Unfortunately their eyes turned to Harry's crumpled form and the relief was crumbled as Draco was slammed painfully into a wall.

They raised their wands when voices trailed to Draco from down the hall he came.

"Damn," Draco breathed out in a hiss. Shoving the older twin away from him. He landed harshly upon the stone corridor. Damn he was so freaking tired.

"No time to explain to you weasels but this is not the time or place to hex the person who just saved his sorry ass. Any moment this corridor is going to swarm with our pursuers and then we are all fucked do you comprehend that much?" His tone betrayed the fear that was evident in his eyes.

"Don't bother with me just get Potter out of here! I will hold them off, but he's got to survive! I will not have my hard work wasted because you two are incompetent." Draco stated, by this point he really didn't want to have any further arguments with himself on whether he had lost his brains or not. He wasn't willing to let his hard work go to waste. The twins didn't argue anymore and took off with Harry. Draco wasted no time in retrieving his wand and placing it carefully into his robes. He awaited the end. The feet got closer but fate seemed to be looking out for him for once… They turned the other direction in the fork it seemed and Draco was left frigid, terrified, dirty, and exhausted in the underground passage that was currently under the Whomping Willow.


	2. The Amazing Missing Memory of Malfoy

Sharp pain jolted him awake. He was shaking badly, he was covered in sweat. His eyes frantically searched the ceiling, the floor, the very room. Wait… a room? He had been in the Forbidden Forest and of that he was sure. He was aware that it had been Professor Lupin, Tonks, and Mad-eye accompanying him from his search for a horcrux when… His mind was going fuzzy but his heart only accelerated. He had been bleeding, he had been burning, he had been dying so why was he still alive? His hands trembled as he tried in vain to get his hair away from his sweat slicked forehead. What had happened after that pain? He… didn't remember but a glance at his bedside table told him that his wand was in one piece and that he seemed to be in Madam Pomfrey's care… again. He was far too familiar with the sterilized infirmary at Hogwarts. How had he gotten here? Commotion outside the doors caught his attention. There were angry shouts and subtle whispers but he could make out who they belonged to. He couldn't mistake the harsh voice of a certain Ron Weasley.

His head seemed to decide that now was a good time to remind him of the meaning of pain. Distantly he could faintly remember a voice but the memory was slipping and soon he was grasping at his scar. The feeling of several spikes impaling your brain was never pleasant. The door opened and closed, he could make out the sound of swift footsteps and a couple pairs of them or so. They were all much too loud. The sound of the curtains being pulled back made him cringe mentally and perhaps physically. Hermione was stooped over him in an instant to make sure he was really okay. Her brown eyes were red and swollen as if she had been crying far too long. Ron was making sure to prod his injured friend in the ribs and even though it was bloody annoying, he welcomed it. The sight of Ron's speckled mug and Hermione's onslaught of dark curls were calming him.

"Harry? Are you feeling okay? You were… were…" Hermione's rational voice shocked him, he dropped his hands listlessly to his side to stare down the most capable wizard of their generation. She was starting to cry again. So what he remembered actually… happened? Then what happened to Lupin, and what about Tonks! Had they gotten away or were they now dead?Harry swallowed thickly and felt a wave of nausea swell in his insides. A groan was rendered from his sore throat and it grated on his ears as sandpaper would have. He'd been screaming hadn't he? His despair took him back over and his forehead reminded him of the stakes in his brain. He was already struggling to sit up, he felt too heavy and very sluggish. It occurred to him that there were a few potion bottles sitting empty beside his bed.

"Oi mate, take it easy! You've only been here a day." The red haired Gryffindor tried to console him into lying back down. It was evident both Ron and Hermione had been waiting to see him since he had probably arrived in his condition. He'd been out for a whole day? Probably a night as well! In retrospect it shouldn't have surprised him so much seeing as he had practically spent weeks at a time in the infirmary in the previous years. This time shouldn't have seemed so serious, except this time it had been far too close for comfort; not that it hadn't been just as bad before, but he should have been more capable now and he hadn't been. In a sense he had failed, and in doing so three of his allies might have died because of him yet again. It was a Cederic fiasco all over again.

"After Professor McGonagall got word of you missing she started a search for you. Somehow George and Fred ended up bringing you back like this. They said that they couldn't believe it. They found you in the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack. McGonagall was furious!" Ron was sometimes very dense but he was glad that his best mate had enough sense to not jump his bones completely, at least not until the end. Harry could tell he was dying to know what exactly happened but Harry wasn't willing to share this experience. He was hardly able to comprehend it himself. He had almost died and somehow in that forest swarming with Death Eaters, someone had gotten there in time to help him. George and Fred to be exact. The twins appeared in his head, tall and slim and always smiling, but that didn't feel right. He was sure that it couldn't have been them. It was clear that it was to the others but something was missing, something big. He had taken Occlumency and he could tell that something had been tampered with in his recent memory. He was sure that it was the reason he was so calm right now despite the searing pain in his head and the notion that he nearly failed everyone. Someone had pried into his head and erased something important, something… and that was far more frightening than his experience. It awoke in him the very fear he had been subject to his previous years.

"I…" He began and suddenly Ron and Hermione were looking at him much too intently, he shifted uncomfortably.

"Harry… You might want to lie back down." Hermione suggested, her small forehead was furrowed in anxiety. Even Ron, who was usually the one encouraging Harry to get about, was edgy about the Boy Who Lived being so active so soon.

"I almost died." He admitted and though this was not the first occasion, the way his stomach dropped when he admitted this one time that he did brush death, was harder to swallow than anything he had handled thus far. He caught the worried lines in Hermione's oval face and caught himself before shooting up much against their approval. They had just gotten him to lie back down as well.

"What happened to everyone? What happened to Mad Eye and Lupin… What about Tonks? We were on our way to Hogwarts when we suddenly got transported by port key and… and…" and then what? He could remember the vicious laughter of several cloaked figures. He could recall the frigid pain lace his insides from a Crutacius curse; he could recall being so afraid that he'd vomited; in so much agony that he'd choked on it. He recalled a death eater before him and his screams as the man broke his bones and laughed about it. It was all hitting him after his initial moment of calm wore off. His green eyes were wide and a cold sweat had broken out in remembrance, but why then had he felt warm soon after he fell unconscious? He had acknowledged the danger he was in for once on a more profound scale than any. He had thought about not telling them but, but he couldn't stop the words from tumbling out. He was terrified, the pain in his head got worse.

"Somehow, we got separated and I can't remember much after that. I was hexed and beaten but something happened and I can't recall! I blacked out but I wasn't unconscious the whole time. There had been Dementors I felt them and… What…" The Boy Who Lived was trembling, he was watching his hands in disbelief trying to get the memory he was missing but he could only see the tampered strings and small bits. Hermione and Ron started to try and ease him. They had jumped up to crowd him and try and soothe him but it wasn't working.

"Harry! Come on Mate you are alright now ! You got here safe and Tonks and Lupin came back, they were in pretty bad shape but they were alright! Easy now, you are okay now. Hermione help me, I am bad at this." Ron whined as his eyes locked onto a much shaken Hermione. She returned it in a manner that asked what she could possibly do about this. The two of them had a silent battle about the issue but it fell short as Harry eased himself from the bed. He was still black and blue but he was otherwise unharmed and there were no scars despite the state he'd been in. Magic could do astounding feats but it didn't mean Harry couldn't have died. Hermione placed a soft hand on Harry's shoulder and for a moment he cherished it.

"Hey Ron?" The voice that spoke was grated and hurt, something was intense about it and it made Ron shudder. Harry in general was more intense and sometimes even scarier than fluffy. Ron had yet to forget about the Three Headed Dog, and even scarier still that giant Spider. Ron knew that Harry was housing his explosive feelings but it would do them all little good for him to get it out now. Ron could comprehend that far.

"Y-Yeah Harry?" It was tentative but Ron felt naked under Harry's gaze. Ron wished he'd kept his glasses on. He had not. With eyes like that who needed Vertiaserum.

"Can Fred or George do Legilimens?" the question was simple but Ron was puzzled by it. It showed. Hermione on the other hand quickly picked up the hint.

"Do you think someone tampered with your memory Harry? Or rather looked through it?" She was quite on the uptake at least. Harry bit his bottom lip and folded his hands together.

"I'm not entirely sure but… Ron do they know how to do it?" He needed to know.

"Harry Legilimens is highly guarded by the ministry and—" Hermione got the idea to be quiet at this point from the way Harry eased further to a stand on the mattress. His eyes were focused now on something else and a voice entered his brain. How heavy was he? Was that it? It was a voice he should have remembered but it was far too soft to be identified just from recollection. Ron decided to shift, his freakishly tall form swaying.

"No. They don't know. None of the Weasley's do." Ron answered truthfully and seemed to become distressed when Harry gave a slight nod. So nothing was as it had seemed. Someone had rescued him that was not the twins, or the guards that had accompanied him, and that same someone had carried him somewhere, and somehow he ended up in the hands of Fred and George Weasley. Those two would be able to tell him about this epidemic. They would be the ones he should be asking. For the moment though he yielded to Hermione's pleas for him to climb back into bed and close his eyes for sleep. He still felt highly uneasy that he couldn't recall the night of the encounter but for now he wouldn't worry much about it. He would ask the twins later when the trio went to diagon alley next. Better yet he could just send Hedwig with a letter which seemed to be the best idea. For the moment he slipped back under the covers and reveled in the sleep that enclosed about him. A voice ran through his mind… it said that he had to survive.

When he next awoke he was eager to leave the infirmary, and did just that. He took his time on the ever rotating stairs and took better care to slip into the Great Hall unnoticed by the mass populace. The year had only just begun but the rumors were spreading fast. He could hear the buzz that continued to warp the mood to focus on him. Why wouldn't they be chatting about him? He had after all, ended up in Pomfrey's in critical condition and was now roaming the halls. It was agreed upon that the boy who lived, had far more luck at living than anyone could guess. Something was odd about the great hall though. Something was missing and when his eyes turned to the Slytherin table he realized that the number had decreased. One particular figure was not seated at the Prince's seat, Draco Malfoy was absent. It seemed natural that he would have become a death eater except… His green eyes widened a fraction and the voice in his head made perfect sense. Draco Malfoy was the one speaking, he had… must have, but that was impossible to comprehend. Malfoy wouldn't save him, he was the enemy.

Harry turned from his staring to settle himself in his usual group of Gryffindor buddies. Dean and Seamus seemed to be staring at him, Colin Creevy held his camera ready, and Neville was shaking as usual.

"Look," Harry began but was caught off guard when Seamus and Dean brought up Quidditch instead. It seemed with Malfoy not in attendance there would be no competition. Harry felt at ease and sunk deep into the banter. Just before the end of the meal his eyes turned to Hermione and Ron in a silent command that they needed to talk.


	3. Malice Mischief or something else?

At first there was only silence. It was a silence that sunk deep into the bones and from there infected a person. It could be compared to the feel of a cemetery or a church; a library or a business meeting. It was a silence that one understood naturally, the type that needed to remain as close to silence. The only big difference between this silence and all things he had ever known was that this one held malice, held death, held stale reeking air. This was not a library or a safe place of rest. No good could live here; no life could blossom in this place. There was only one other place that held this sense of degradation and despair and that was a room far below the headquarters of the Death Eaters, the throne room for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. This was also the place that the death eaters wouldn't find him.

His eyes were trained upon the stack of possessions that were kindling a small fire. The use of magic would have been dangerous at this point for obvious reasons. While he had not yet been marred by the mark and while he had planned to scheme some way to never receive the curse itself, it did not mean that the preparations for it hadn't been somewhat influential. Even now he could sometimes feel the violating tingle as eyes tried to search him out. It wouldn't take long for his life to crumble to ash, but he was determined to end it on his terms. That meant rejecting the futile lies, the hopelessness of this predicament. He could only believe in all outcomes being negative. His fingers were dirt covered, for the second time in his life. Saving Potter had been the first, he scowled at the thought.

He had awoken in the accursed darkness of the tunnel, amazed that he had been shielded from the pursuers. He had been hysterical, relieved, and then in that same dreary tunnel he had become calculating where he stood half mad from the lingering fear and seeing all the outcomes were grim. He was unable to just change sides, he had noted; they wouldn't believe him or understand the exigency of his position. It would be seen to them as cowardice. He wouldn't trust a traitor and neither would anybody in their right mind. Who would lay trust in the betrayer of one side? Once you betrayed someone, you lose all ability of being trusted, that was a strict Malfoy disapline and the same one that began his scathing rivalry with the Potter boy. He wouldn't trust someone who betrayed and he expected no one else to. No matter the deed done to clear that stain upon ones sincerity, the results would remain stained and broken, like the Potter Boy's glasses that one time that he had hexed them. Even as he thought this, grey eyes gazed to the fire which was consuming an odd trinket. He couldn't return to Hogwarts as he was, he could not risk the Dark Lord finding him so easily. No, if the Dark Lord was going to find him, it would be because Draco Acronius Malfoy was ready to take him down, or to accept death. The destruction of all death eaters was necessary for this world to be free… Azkaban was not enough, even his father deserved the punishment for taking such a curse onto their family.

With Death eaters still roaming free, the idea that the darkness could live remained constant. In this instance, there was no peaceful way to end all this. Harry would try though; Potter wouldn't think that killing was the answer, naïve git. It was a Slytherine thing to think. Salazar was wise though, he knew the reality of the darkest secrets. All this needed to end in death, and Potter wouldn't see that, only a Malfoy could deduce this with such a cool head. There was no option, no one thing redeeming of any death eater. Once one gave themselves to Voldemort, they became him. His father had been the Dark Lords right hand, Bellatrix remained his left. All moved because he moved, it was as if all of this was a game of chess to that monster and rightfully, it was. As he was now, the boy with the flaxen hair knew he could not possibly take the initiative. He was unable to move right now.

His head was wrought with plans, with speculations and most importantly, a vast understanding of what needed to be done. Only Gryffindors were dumb enough to risk it. It would be perfect; they wouldn't suspect a Malfoy to do such things. He would do the deeds that Potter was too soft to do. As much as he was trapped and limited, he just needed to bide his time and be in the right place and for that he would have to be near the Golden Boy. Not his favorite plan but if he was able to save his mother he would do anything, anything to end this evil. He didn't want to have this taint upon his family's name any longer. He would not stand for anymore humiliation or stricken woes from that garish beast of a dark lord. There was no easy way out of this however, and as he thought of this he huddled his elegant form closer to the flames before him. He would not get connected or forge bonds, at least not deep ones but surely he could meddle. Surely he could do what he could to end all of this on his terms. Dieing was the least of his worries now.

"Damn…" The words broke the silence. His troubled eyes narrowed. He didn't like what he was going to do. Well it wasn't exactly betrayal, after all he was never one to begin with but it was necessary. He would have to show Harry that there was no other alternative. A small smile graced his lips and he scoffed at himself. Turning the Golden Boy into a murderer was no easy task. A small expression crossed his face.

"Really… I'm daft. I have done a lot to prove it but now it's certain… I thought of him as Harry." His face was drawn in exhaustion. There was present in his gaze, the look of despair. After he had calmed down from his frantic act of yesterday he had been able to analyze his actions. Potter would realize, no one would believe him save the twins. The charm had been too stretched and weak, sloppy and unMalfoyish, by now that boy was probably sulking or cracking some joke at the Slytherine's expense. Something about the idea of Harry sulking was oddly fulfilling. Hah! Malfoy making the golden boy sulk. Like a baby even! Right now, he would be thinking something along the lines of that he owed Malfoy or something, or that it was a conspiracy. Either way, the truth would be denied. It would be covered by misunderstanding and years of rivalry. With Harry and himself, there would only breed hatred and ill wishes. It was why Draco could depend on Harry to end all of this. He was the rival that he, Draco, had chosen. Malfoys only choose the best. The picture in the fire place was ash by this point along with the attachment to it.

"I won't hesitate any longer." He whispered with that silver tongued edge to his words. There was a hiss to the end of it. He stood up abruptly from the comfort of his slapdash camp; he took a look around the wasteland, and slowly resigned himself to a fate more horrid than Voldemort's wrath. He was going to do something unforgivable. His name would live in infamy as a traitor, scum, a horrid monstrosity, but he was okay with that as long as the evil that plagued him perished and burned. He took a lingering glance at all that surrounded him. Someday he would taste this silence again. When the time was ripe for him to move he would do it. He felt a strange sense of violation inside of himself. He was being watched.

"Don't look at me that way you old coot. I didn't do it for you… I hate him, but he is necessary, so I just need him to live longer… Peeping old man... I know it wasn't for him…" He whispered. He was certain that locked up somewhere in the headmaster's office was that portrait of Dumbledore, and he was laughing at him.

"I won't waste anymore time. Ready or not Potter here I come."


End file.
